Epilogue
Wolf River, Wisconsin Wilderness
Summer 1769
Four years later, Elizabeth paused by the window and looked out at the throng of children and ponies gathered in the meadow. Jamie was leading a little gray, barely taller at the withers than the watchful dog pacing close beside them. Red-haired Gordon clung to the pony’s flowing mane and drummed his heels into the round, shaggy sides, but the patient animal never broke out of a walk.
Closer to the river, Rachel reined her pinto close to Star Girl’s bright bay. The two ponies nibbled grass as the girls waved to friends coming from the direction of the Shawnee village. Nearby, Elizabeth recognized Fox’s youngest son kicking a leather ball to another boy. The temptation was too much for Badger; barking excitedly, he abandoned Gordon’s riding lesson and ran to snatch the ball in his teeth and run with it. Rachel and Star Girl laughed and cheered the dog on as the two boys ran after him trying to recover the stolen ball. Three more youths joined the chase to the obvious delight of the girls.
“Elizabeth?” Hunt said. “Are we having a conversation or not?”
“Oh, yes.” She turned from the window and smiled at him. “I was watching the children. Gordon’s proud as he can be on that pony. I just hope he doesn’t take a tumble.”
Hunt drained his mug of cider and rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “Jamie’s leading him, isn’t he? I only said he could ride if Jamie was with him. Rachel’s a good rider, but she’s only seven. She’s not old enough to teach Gordon.”
“You know Jamie. He adores his little brother. He won’t trust Gordon to anyone else. But I think it’s Badger that’s giving the riding lessons.”
“Between the two of them, even Gordon ought to be safe.” Hunt sighed and set his cup on the table. “We were discussing something important, Elizabeth.”
“I told you what I had to say. You just don’t believe me.”
His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t say I didn’t believe you. You know how pleased I’d be if it were true, but after the way you lied to me over Gordon—”
She untied her apron and draped it over the back of a chair as she went to him. “I didn’t lie to you about Gordon, honey. I said I was pregnant, and I was.”
“You told your father and half of Carolina that you were four months gone with my child. You nearly got me hung.”
She caught his hand and brought it to her lips. Strange how a husband’s hand could be so familiar and still give her butterflies in her stomach every time she touched him. She smiled at him. “I wasn’t lying to you, and I’m not lying now,” she said softly. “Gordon is the proof of it, isn’t he?”
“If you were four months gone, he’d have been born just after the New Year, not in May. You tricked me, woman. You forced me into a shotgun wedding.”
He was right, of course. But the trick had been on her. She’d thought she was lying to him, but she had been pregnant—with Gordon, their auburn-topped bundle of mischief. “An error in calculation, nothing more.” She nibbled at his knuckles. “Are you sorry?”
“Sorry I wasn’t hanged? Hell, no.”
“Hunter Campbell!”
He grinned and stood up, pulling her into his arms. “How many times do I have to tell you, Elizabeth? I stayed away until I could figure out how to offer for you. I came to your father’s house that day to ask you to be my wife, not to say good-bye.”
“How was I to know that?”
“I sent you a note, telling you how stupid I’d been and asking you to wait for me.”
“I didn’t get any note, Hunt.”
“I gave it to a serving wench wearing slippers. Pansy, I believe her name was.”
“A serving girl in slippers? I suppose they were satin slippers.”
“They were, but they had the heels cut out.”
“Polly was her name. I never got a note.”
“I sent one.”
“Now who’s covering his tracks?” she teased.
He bent his head and kissed her tenderly on the lips. “No matter who made the bargain, it was the best one of my life. You’re trouble, Elizabeth Campbell, always were, always will be, but I wouldn’t trade you.”
“Or I you.” She stared into his eyes. “Are you sorry I kept you from your far mountains?”
He shook his head. “They aren’t going anywhere. And who knows, we may get there yet—when the children are grown and settled with families of their own.”
She looked around the spacious room and sighed contentedly. Hunt had built her a two-story log home with four rooms down and four up, the first year they’d come to the Lake Country. Since then, he’d moved the store to a separate building, built a barn and sheds, and added three more rooms to the house and planted an orchard. A French family had come to work for them at the trading post, and the older Dechenaux girls did most of the housework and helped with Elizabeth’s children.
But it wasn’t the solid house or the green forests and meadows that had brought her the most joy in her marriage. She had been welcomed by her old friends the Shawnee, and by the Indian people new to her, the Menominee, whose bountiful land they’d come to live on. All those things brought her happiness and peace of mind, but always it was Hunt who was the flame of her life. Hunt had proved to be a loving husband and a good father to Rachel, Jamie, and little Gordon. Each day, it seemed to her, they grew closer, and each time they made love, it seemed like a new and wondrous thing.
“Thank you,” she whispered to him.
“For what?”
“For loving me.”
“You’re an easy woman to love.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “But what is this about another baby?”
“I’m not going to tell you, now. You said I lied to you about our Gordon.”
“Did I say that?”
“You did,” she accused.
“And when was Gordon born?”
“May sixteenth, 1766.”
“The prosecution rests.” He kissed her on the mouth again. “Admit your fault, woman. You lied to trap me into marriage.”
Warm tingles ran the length of her spine. She caught his hand and placed it on her belly. “I’ve a daughter growing here, under my heart,” she murmured. “Your daughter.”
“A strange place for your heart,” he replied. “I think this bears closer investigation.” He cupped a hand under her breast. “I need to see if these are any bigger.”
“Hunter! Not in the kitchen! What if the children should come in for—”
“You’re right,” he said. “You’re always right, even if you can’t add worth a damn. Come along, wench. We’re for the marriage bed.”
“In the middle of the afternoon? Your sister and Talon are coming for dinner and I’ve a goose to—”
“Let the goose see to its own fate.” He kissed her under the ear and ran a hand suggestively over her bottom. “Talon of all men would understand.”
Elizabeth laughed as he picked her up in his arms and spun around. “Don’t,” she protested. “You’ll make me dizzy.”
“Is there really another baby, darling?” he asked.
“I’ve missed three moon times.”
“Like I said,” he teased, “this needs careful investigation.” He put one moccasined foot on the stairs. “I’d fill this house with our children, if it was up to me,” he whispered to her.
She laughed and lifted her head for his kiss. “I suppose you lied to me when you said you couldn’t father children,” she said.
“It’s what I believed,” he replied, “but I thank the Creator that I was wrong.” He took the stairs, two at a time.
“What shall we call her? It will be a girl this time. I know it will.”
“Wrestle you,” he dared her. “Two out of three falls. Winner picks the babe’s name.”
“And what would you choose? Something awful, I’m sure.”
He pushed open the bedroom door, paused and kissed her with such tenderness and passion that tears came to her eyes. “Cheyenne Elizabeth Campbell,” he whispered.
“I think that’s a fine choice,” she replied as he laid her down on the heaped quilts of their high poster bed. Hunt stripped his shirt off over his head, and she wiggled out of her loose Indian dress and held out her arms to him. “I like the name Cheyenne,” she murmured. “We don’t have to wrestle. I’ll yield the match.”
He grinned, the lazy smile that always made her heartbeat quicken and her breathing come hard. “I’d rather wrestle,” he said.
“Have I ever told you that I love you, my precious Sundancer,” she replied softly.
“Not enough, green eyes,” he answered. “Never enough. But then, we’ve got a lifetime for you to try.”